


Catnip was not an Ingredient

by toomuchdiscourse (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Cat Ears, Cat/Human Hybrids, Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Potions Accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/toomuchdiscourse
Summary: What Aaron wasn't expecting, however, was the sight of Hamilton huddled on his kitchen chair, knees drawn up to his chin, hands furiously scratching at two very feline ears poking out the top of his head.“I thought you were having a potions emergency” Aaron said, honestly surprised to get any words out at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> don't look at me. This was incredibly self indulgent like wow
> 
> It also isn't edited at all, due to the aforementioned self indulgence. It is what it is. Enjoy these 6 pages of nonsense

Everyone knew Alexander Hamilton was trouble. None more so than Aaron Burr, especially now. 

The call had seemed urgent, when Aaron received it. Hamilton, like most people nowadays, was more of a texting than a calling sort. So picking up the ring tone only to hear Hamilton practically beg Aaron to come over was both unusual and highly concerning. Not that Aaron was about to admit it, Hamilton would definitely tease him. 

Aaron was honestly half expecting a teasing remark of some sort when he arrived mere minutes after the call, having run several lights to get to Hamilton's apartment complex. Either that, or he expected to find Hamilton dying on the floor, some accidental magical poison spewing from his stove top. 

What Aaron wasn't expecting, however, was the sight of Hamilton huddled on his kitchen chair, knees drawn up to his chin, hands furiously scratching at two very feline ears poking out the top of his head. 

“I thought you were having a potions emergency” Aaron said, honestly surprised to get any words out at all. Hamilton's cat ears twitched. Aaron spotted a flicker out the back of the chair that looked suspiciously like a tail. 

Hamilton finally looked up at him, an expression of abject misery. “It is a potions emergency. I was working on a potion to change your animagus form.” 

“You what!?” Aaron stopped considering the bizarre nature of the situation and strode over to the saucepan on the kitchen table. “That's really high level stuff, experts have been trying for years.” He drew his wand and cast a quick air containment spell, before leaning down to take a better look. “You know potions aren't even your strong suit.” 

Hamilton huffed loudly. “Yeah, well, Jefferson was being an asshole.” Aaron ignored that and cast a detection spell, sighing in relief when it revealed no dangerous gases in the containment. He then cast another spell to look for anything in the potion itself that would harm a person. The feedback informed Aaron that there was a moderate nausea causing agent. 

“Looks like you'll be fine, all things considered. You'll probably throw up later, but if that's the only consequence of uninformed potion experimenting, consider yourself lucky. Honestly Hamilton, what were you thinking?” Aaron canceled the containment spell now that it was deemed safe, and took a curious sniff. Despite being a deep forest green, the concoction smelled of Hazelnuts. 

Aaron turned back to Hamilton, ready for an explanation, only to be met with a scowl, scrunched nose, and folded back ears. “Like I said, Jefferson was being-”

Aaron waved an impatient hand, cutting Hamilton off. “No, I heard that. I was waiting for the real reason.”

“That is the real reason!”

“Jefferson is always an asshole, you of all people know this. Now be more specific.” Aaron folded his arms at Hamilton's defiant stare. “Come on, this goes beyond your usual pointless competitive squabbling. I think I deserve an explanation.”

It was a perfectly reasonable request, but still Hamilton shifted and looked away. “Look, can't you just help me? The potion's meant to last a week before it runs out naturally. I can't be seen like this!” 

“Of course I'll help.” Aaron put on a polite, patient smile, the same kind he gave to the particularly stubborn children at work. “Just as soon as you tell me exactly what's going on.”

Hamilton let out a long groan. Aaron waited it out, taking another chance to investigate. There was something different about Hamilton's eyes- they seemed larger, somehow, with an almost-glow that only compounded the bright attentiveness Hamilton always had about him. When he opened his mouth, Aaron was certain he saw sharp feline teeth. 

“Alright, fine. We were arguing and Jefferson brought his stupid hobby up again.” Alex finally relented. Aaron gave an encouraging nod. Thomas was actually a very skilled potioneer, for all that his career was in politics. Hamilton's need to be the smartest in every subject crossed paths with his intense rivalry often enough, and his non-skill in potions was a notable sore point. “He was complaining about the current research for temporary animagus-changing potions, talking shit about how it was impossible and researchers were wasting their time. I just told him that researchers with actual Masters in the subject obviously must know better than two-bit dabblers.”

And didn't that explain everything Aaron needed to know. “He dared you to prove him wrong.”

“He dared me to prove him wrong,” Hamilton agreed. “I thought I was on the right track, but as you can see, well...”

The saucepan sat innocently on the table. Aaron allowed another sigh. “You know Jefferson knows more about this subject than you.”

Hamilton grimaced, but conceded the point with a tiny shrug. “Maybe, but he doesn't have an inventive bone in his body! Always so narrow minded, so uninspired.” He gestured at the potion, at the scattered ingredients making a mess all over his counter. “The man's got no creative process, no spirit!”

Thomas Jefferson was the inventor of several quite ingenious policies, as well as a few potions and even a spell or two that would probably be used for decades to come. While narrow minded could be used to describe him, uninvented and uninspired certainly could not. There was no point in correcting Hamilton when it came to Jefferson though, so Aaron let him have it. 

“Besides,” Hamilton grinned widely, his sharp teeth making fangs against his lips. “You know a lot more than either of us.”

And there lay the rub. “I'm not going to work on one of the biggest challenges of cutting edge potioneering just so you can win a bet against Jefferson.” Despite his words, Aaron started glancing down to the disorganized papers littering the table. Hamilton was nowhere near the solution, obviously, but that bit about making the effects last a week were interesting. Aaron knew a few methods, and all were fairly difficult to accomplish. 

Hamilton pouted. “You can at least reverse it? You are a professional, after all.”

The words were clearly bait. “I keep telling you, my field of study is in theoretical Herbology, not potion making.” 

“Yes, yes, 'theoretical Herbology with a focus on lunar-phase dependent flora. You still have a degree in potions.” Aaron opened his mouth to correct, only to be cut off “-which is only as part of a double major with Herbology. I know, you keep saying.”

“Well,” It was Aaron's turn to huff. “If you'd stop misrepresenting my studies and my work, maybe I wouldn't have to repeat them.” He wouldn't admit that the vote of utter confidence felt nice, though. And really, Aaron wasn't actually an asshole, even though the idea of stranding Hamilton like this was funny. “I can take a look, but I can't promise anything. You know anti-potions are a tricky field.” 

The resulting smile was blinding. “Let's move to the study, then? That's where most of my notes are. These are just the last recipe I tried.” He gestured at the mess of papers. 

Aaron stood up. “Well thank god you at least kept notes. Can you put everything into order and show me where you started?” 

Hamilton's ears flared as he practically leaped up after Aaron. “Of course!” His tail whipped upwards as he leaned over the table to pull all the papers into a messy file. Aaron tried to remember cat body language, and then decided to stop trying. It was cute, Aaron had no problem admitting that to himself. Hamilton was cute enough on his own already. But he wouldn't want to hear that, and he certainly wouldn't want to hear it now when he was under the effect of untested, unverified potion (even if it was his own damn fault).

The two of them quickly settled in the study, where Aaron immediately had plenty of things to take his mind off of Hamilton being cute. “For once, your insistence on writing way too much at all times pays off,” Aaron mused, looking at the mountain of paper on the desk. Hamilton dragged a second chair into the room so they could both sit. “It's easier to reverse engineer when all thought processes and actions are available.” 

Hamilton looked proud for a moment, and then annoyed. “What do you mean, 'for once'? My writing pays off all the time, or I wouldn't be a very successful secretary of treasury. And I am, successful that is.” Hamilton was right, of course, but Aaron allowed himself the pretense because he really did write far too much at times. 

Aaron quickly fell into a familiar rhythm, born of frequent late nights studying and late night collaborations with Hamilton in specific, though it had been quite a while since either. The American Wizengamot they were both part of had not met in full for several years now. 

“So, is there a reason you focused on making the animagus shift to a housecat?” Aaron asked, halfway finished deciphering Hamilton's long rambling thought process. 

“Oh well, I thought it would be easier to focus on something close to my own form.”

“Of course. A lion, was it?” The question was polite, Aaron already knew. The number of registered animagus was always rising as information and aid became wider spread, but there still weren't so many that Aaron wasn't aware of every animagus in the United States. 

Hamilton hummed in agreement, scribbling a more concise version of the recipe he had used, at Aaron's request. “And you're a Cuban crocodile, not that anyone has ever seen you shift.” 

It was a long standing point of contention. Aaron changed the topic. “According to the theoretical proof, the one I'm assuming you've based your experiments on, it actually doesn't matter what your animagus form is, only that you have one. The specific form of the user should have no impact on the effectiveness of a shifting potion for any other specific form.”

This got a rare silent pause. “Huh, no shit? I should probably re-read that.” Aaron left him to it, he had an antidote to formulate.

\--

“Alexander, I'm sorry.” Aaron was about ready to sleep even after several cups of coffee.

“Wait no, come on, surely there's something else?” Aaron wanted to snap at Hamilton's words, but it was obvious he was desperate. He regularly wore his emotions on a sleeve already, the sagging tail and pinned ears were almost redundant. They just made him look sadder, and that wasn't what Aaron needed right now. 

“I've already gone over everything twice. God knows how you managed it, but you used the one duration-lengthening process that needs a masters in Arithmancy to reverse. Neither you nor I are slouches in the subject, but come on, Hamilton.” 

Hamilton's ears drooped further down, Aaron hadn't even thought it possible. “But I can't miss a whole week of work, and I can't go in like this, either!” 

“That's your own problem, Hamilton. I've tried my best, but in the end it was your decision to self test an amateur potion, and so it is your consequence to deal with.” Aaron rubbed his eyes. “It's after midnight.”

Hamilton pouted. “I bet you wouldn't be so cavalier about consequences if it were you stuck like this.”

That startled a tired laugh out of him. “I wouldn't get stuck like that in the first place. I'm sure Jefferson is going to have a field day.” 

A loud thump sounded as Hamilton let his head fall to the desk. “Don't remind me.” He groaned. And then he sat up again. “Wait, aren't you due in that meeting tomorrow too?” 

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I'm surprised you know about that, but yes. The meeting on the ongoing Herbology conservation plan. I'm the consultant.”

“You can cover me, then!”

“Cover you, how?” Aaron snorted, “I'm not going to make some distraction just so people aren't staring at your predicament.” He stretched and yawned. Hamilton could argue all he wanted, but Aaron was going home very shortly, one way or another. And sure enough, Hamilton's eyes focused on a patch of empty air, his lips pressing into a determined line. Aaron let him sit in thought, turning to the mess they had made.

The mountain of papers had been multiplied and divided into neat piles, Aaron's own contributions in careful order, but no less cluttered. He felt a sharp pang of fond nostalgia, their mutual fervent efforts creating a storm in the courts, propelling Wizengamot hearings into proper muggle-inspired trials. However, this particular venture may have trumped even those days. Aaron was almost shocked at the amount of work they had managed. Maybe Hamilton wasn't so far off from a solution after all, for all hat his initial efforts had been barely-informed stumbling. 

Hamilton scraped his chair as he stood. “I'll get you one more coffee for the road. I know you hate apparating when you're tired, and you'll want one if you're walking home.” He made a beeline for the kitchen, and Aaron barely had time to add a 'thank you'. 

Aaron thanked the wizards of old that Hamilton wasn't fighting it anymore, seemingly accepting that Aaron had tried his best. He seemed suddenly chipper too, likely having discovered a plan already to hide his current status. Aaron couldn't blame Hamilton for his emotional investment. Merlin knows he'd be horrified in Hamilton's position. If he had a strategy, even a half baked one, Aaron could only wish him luck. 

Hamilton was back in minutes, steaming mug in hand. Aaron accepted it gratefully, even if it was the fourth cup by now. “I really am leaving after this, just so you know.” Aaron warned, relishing the warm steam rising up into his face. 

“Yeah, I know. I guess that's fair. At least I can keep the notes, I think we made some good progress on the actual potion, if not an antidote to the accident. “

Aaron took a long, slow sip. The Hazelnut creamer was a bit of a surprise, but Hamilton was likely buttering him up for whatever hare brained scheme he likely had for tomorrow. “If you actually manage it, I expect at least partial credit.” 

Another sip of coffee. It was a nice change of flavour, though all of Hamilton's coffee was delicious. It was how he stayed upright half the time, after all. “Of course,” Hamilton assured, a little too quickly, his voice slightly high. Aaron rolled his eyes. It wouldn't be the first time Hamilton had trouble sharing credit. 

“Maybe I ought to make a copy of everything then, if you're going to take all the credit.” Aaron was half joking, because despite his reluctance the evening had actually been interesting, and Aaron wouldn't mind pursuing the idea. Just a bit, on his own. Without Hamilton gloating about being right. 

Hamilton shrugged and spread his arms wide, welcoming the idea, only the movements were quick and nervous, the tip of his tail agitated. Aaron frowned at the sight, and then winced as a sudden throbbing overtook his head. 

For a moment, Aaron's ears seemed to pop. Which didn't make sense, as they weren't changing in pressure. Then the same sensation repeated itself, but around his tailbone. A building, throbbing pressure, and then a satisfying pop. Aaron was confused, until Hamilton flinched and suddenly looked very guilty, and then he wasn't.

“I swear to god Hamilton-” Aaron began, reaching his hands to the empty space where his ears should be, and then slowly up until he felt new, furry, mobile appendages. “What the fuck!?” He jumped up, eyes following the long silky black tail that blended into his backside.

“Sorry, sorry, I just thought, if you were holding out secretly-”

“Holy shit Hamilton, I was telling the truth! I can't reverse this shit! What the fuck!” Aaron was yelling. He felt the strange sensation of his own tail bristling, could feel the fur puffing out, even. He didn't care. 

“-and if you weren't holding out, then at least I wouldn't be alone!” Hamilton seemed proud of himself. Aaron spotted a hint of mischief in his eyes, and his panic deflated somewhat despite himself. It was temporary, he remembered, even if it would last a whole week. 

“Yes, because embarrassing me as well makes things so much better.” Aaron glared. Hamilton seemed to shrivel for a moment, before springing back with a wide smile.

“Exactly! I won't feel half as dumb, now. And Jefferson won't be able to laugh at both of us, since you're too serious all the time to get made fun of.” His hand reached out for Aaron's face suddenly, until it found its mark under Aaron's temporary new ear. The light, unexpected scratching felt so nice that Aaron nearly went limp, a satisfied purr bursting from his chest. He startled and froze, because what? Did he really just purr? 

Hamilton giggled, completely ignoring the statement he just made about Aaron being 'too serious to make fun of'. “Cute,” He said fondly, giving another tiny scratch. For a moment, Aaron considering leaning into the motion- it was honestly sinful how good the ear scratching felt. But then he remembered whose fault this was. 

“I'm going home before you can do anymore damage.” Hamilton, for once, didn't contest this, though he did shoot Aaron a very self satisfied smirk at the door. Tomorrow was going to be an ordeal, definitely.

The next day meeting went as well as Aaron expected. He was not in fact 'too serious to make fun of', and earned barely concealed amusement from nearly everyone, including a very inelegant snort from President Washington himself. Jefferson found himself extremely capable of laughing at both of them, and Madison even more capable of summoning a camera. Aaron's only saving grace was that the meeting was kept just professional enough for Aaron to say his piece and have it be listened to. 

The potion actually lasted nine days, each one filled with jokes and taunts that were tired by day 2. One more day of someone waving catnip in his face, and Aaron knew he would end up with a Homicide on his hands. 

In revenge, Aaron lounged at Hamilton's place after work, ate all his good snacks, and made him scratch behind Aaron's ears. When Aaron was feeling particularly satisfied, he sometimes scratched Hamilton's ears in turn, which very obviously elicited the same pleasant feelings. Maybe the potion made him loopy (the nausea came and went from the third day onwards), but it somehow ended up one of the nicest weeks Aaron remembered having, eternal embarrassment notwithstanding. 

It was supposed to be Hamilton's penance of course, but somehow he never once voiced a complaint. Instead, Hamilton spent the week smiling.


End file.
